The Hybrid and the Dragon
by Dogmeat
Summary: A "what if" DL crossover involving my sci-fi D&D campaign. When a half-dragon mercenary from the stars crashes on Krynn, the life of one particular silver dragon is changed forever.
1. Chapter 1

THE HYBRID AND THE DRAGON

By Dogmeat

Author's Note: It's about time I actually posted this. This fanfic is a crossover between Dragonlance and a sci-fi D&D campaign I created years ago. I made this for two reasons; one, to serve as a kind of prelude episode revealing the unofficial origins of one of the main characters; and two, as a kind of tribute to the series that got me into fantasy in the first place. It doesn't exactly center around Dragonlance, but I suppose this is still where the story should be posted. The "Tales of the Discordia" campaign setting and story series, and all its characters, are my intellectual property; Dragonlance and its characters belongs to WoTC

* * *

The lone star dragon dozed happily on a small, slowly spinning asteroid, appreciating this rare moment of silence. For the last two months, she had been in and around her clan's lair, located to the rear of Discordia's outer hull. It had been noisy there, with a thousand telepathic minds chattering away at once, slightly muffled by the ever present rumble of the ship's mighty engines. The last few destinations had yielded nothing of interest to her, advanced civilizations being just as noisy as her clanmates. These races always harvested their nearer asteroid fields, leaving nowhere for a creature like her to relax.

But this system was different. The civilizations around here hadn't started scavenging from the void, a practice she and her kind considered barbaric and blasphemous. So, when Discordia left hyperspace and arrived here, she had taken flight and found this nice, quiet asteroid belt and curled up snugly on an inviting looking rock, for a brief respite from the chaos of clan life.

Star dragons were one of Discordia's more interesting species. Apart form the fact that they lived in hard vacuum, they were also totally deaf and blind, at least by most species' definition of the terms. Instead, they received external information through the spiritual currents and eddies that existed throughout a sublevel of reality that only they could truly understand. These currents carried information from the nearby environment, allowing the leviathans to 'see' and 'hear' their surroundings with an advanced form of telepathy. Unfortunately, these vacuum currents are blocked out by most gasses, rending star dragons helpless in any kind of atmosphere.

Tess was one such creature. Young by her kind's standards, she was the equivalent of a adolescent teenager, and liked nothing more than to escape from those bossy elders and rest out in uninhabited space, where the vacuum currents swirled lazily about in freedom, weaving around the few asteroids in this sparse part of the belt.

Tess slowly inhaled one of the currents, and then let it out in a sigh of pleasure. Now THIS was living. She had an asteroid that was perfect for a creature of her size and shape to rest on, and there wasn't another soul in sight. Stretching out her huge wings in blissful freedom, she closed her eyes and began to doze off.

It was then that she heard the rumbling. Tess raised her mute head and attuned her senses to find the source of the sound. Whatever it was, it was getting louder, and very quickly. She had barely finished the thought when a fighter craft roared right past her, sending the vacuum currents scattering haphazardly in every direction and giving Tess a nasty fright. She was still reeling from the encounter when two more fighters blasted past in close pursuit of the original, the rumbling of their engines receding as fast as they had approached. Tess gave the rapidly dwindling craft a furious stare, and was so distracted doing this that she barely ducked in time to avoid a fourth ship from taking off her head.

The fourth craft was larger than the other three, obviously a light cruiser of some kind, and sent the vacuum currents into the biggest frenzy yet. As the cruiser shot past, the edge of its engine trail clipped Tess's asteroid, sending it into a chaotic spin. Tess leaped from it just in time, and watched sadly as it crashed into a larger asteroid and disintegrated. Tess looked at the distant squadron, and released a flurry of angry telepathic expletives in their direction.

Of all the pilots in the squadron, only Claw hard Tess's rapidly fading obscenities. The half-dragon wingleader looked over his shoulder through the back of the domed cockpit in a brief search of the sender, but realised that his squad was too far away from the point of origin for him to spot her. Focusing his attention to more pressing matters, Claw looked back at his wingmates. Good, he thought, they were keeping up. Usually new recruits would lag behind, forcing him to reduce speed and wait for them to catch up.

He always brought the latest rookies along with him on scouting missions, which were relatively uneventful and involved several days of sitting in a light fighter flying escort for a bulky scanner cruiser, which lumbered from planet to planet and analysed them from orbit. This sort of mission was necessary whenever Discordia hyberjumped into a new solar system, and the tiresome job was always offloaded onto a mercenary team, since the military liked to send expendable units first into uncharted territory whenever possible. Whenever Claw's unit got the duty, he'd bring along his most inexperienced pilots, since the long, uneventful journeys gave them a chance to get accustomed to the controls of their newly issued crafts. It also showed them what a pilot's life can be like in real life, flying from waypoint to waypoint and resisting the urge to plunge their ship into a nearby sun in an attempt to make things more interesting.

Claw was a hybrid. His birth had resulted from the unusual union between a human and a dragon. There were many signs of this union on the half-dragon, the most prominent of these being his reptilian eyes, the line of small scales on the left side of this face, and of course, the large leathery wings on his back. Apart from that, he was mostly humanoid. He was of strong build, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, and a short goatee. He wore a menacingly spiked suit of blood red plate mail, with each gauntlet sporting a pair of long blades, giving him the appearance of a demonic warrior, which the more paranoid numbers of society rumoured he actually was. The antiquated armour was magically enhanced to heal the wearer's injuries, and Claw never went anywhere without it, wearing it whether he was flying a ship or performing a ground mission with the marines in his squad. The back of the amour's cuirass was an intricate system of interlocking plates and straps, offering maximum protection from sneak attacks but also allowing his wings total freedom of movement.

Personality wise, Claw was often described as a hardass, and rightly so. He was strict, never smiled, and performed his duties with cold, unerring efficiency. He expected total obedience from his employees, but was not considered to by unnecessarily harsh or cruel. And, as possibly Discordia's best pilot, he was widely respected by those of all castes and professions. He had a reputation as a mercenary who could get the job done, and he and his squad was constantly being paid handsomely to perform the most important of tasks.

Such a pity, he thought, that scouting missions such as these were considered to be so important. Flicking on the comms channel, he requested a status report from his wingmates.

"Everything's fine here," yawned Ra'alik, absently batting the fluffy dice hanging from the forward ceiling of his ship with a furry claw. Ra'alik was a kali, a race of catpeople renowned for their natural agility, and notorious for their aloofness and ego. He was proving to be a capable pilot, but an arrogant one. Claw knew that one day Ra'alik would find out that he was not in fact invincible, and hoped that the feline would survive the lesson so that he could learn from it and become the elite pilot he had the potential to be.

"All is quiet on this side." That was Larissa, an elvan mystic who used her gift of foresight to assist her in battle. By sensing the spiritual upheaval in conflicts, she could detect opponents before they struck, and sometimes even predicted their moves before they made them. With training, she could very well become the squad's best flyer.

Claw turned his attention back to the small planet they were approaching. Judging by the clear blue oceans, healthy green and brown land masses and wispy clouds, the civilization there had not yet entered the dark, smog-filled days of industrial revolution. Meaning that the people there probably weren't ready yet to meet with a society such as Discordia's. Still, some of the most advanced species met so far lived on worlds appearing largely untouched.

"Reduce speed and commence scanning," he ordered, and the four ships swung around in perfect formation and entered orbit around the world. Dozens of lights on the scanner cruiser winked on as all the sensor dishes and antennae rotated around to face the planet, and began the slow process of gathering information from the surface.

"Okay," started the cruiser pilot. "I'm reading an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere with a reasonably high water to land ratio. The largest land mass appears to be the one directly below us now." There was a pause as the cruiser processed the next report. "There's been a LOT of mana use here. Residue levels are off the scale. An apocalyptic event has occurred here within the last few centuries. Whatever it was, I'll bet it caused that massive underwater crater just off the northwest coast. Looks like that whole area used to be part of the main continent."

"And what is the civilization like?" asked Claw.

"Pre-industrial. The largest population areas have some pretty impressive cities, but most places seem to be simple villages and townships, a few of which are protected by a keep or a castle. There are a whole bunch of species down there, but humans appear to be the populous one."

"It doesn't sound like this world is ready for a visit from Discordia, does it?"

"I'd have to concur," the pilot replied. "It would likely do a lot of damage to their societies and beliefs if a starship larger than their world pulled up nearby to say hello. Plus my readings seem to indicate that the deities of this world are gearing up for something. They may not welcome sudden guests."

"Then let's move on." Claw sighed. "Okay, people, prepare to break orbit."

Larissa was the first to realise something was wrong. As she prepared to follow Claw's orders, a sudden wave of doom washed over her, a sense that was never wrong. Acting immediately, she yelled "Danger!" over the comm channel, while simultaneously bringing her ship into a steep climb in order to avoid whatever was coming after her.

Claw was the first to react to Larissa's warning. He too broke into a climb, following both Larissa's ship and her judgement.

Ra'alik, unfortunately, was not so lucky. Although he had reacted just as fast as Claw, he was not in the proper position to pilot his ship. Having abandoned alertness some time ago, he had been cruising in autopilot, putting his feet up on the dash and letting the ship fly itself. Thus, his feet didn't reach the pedals quickly enough for him to save his life, and when the incoming missile swarm appeared from nowhere and zeroed in on the squad, the two rockets aimed at him exploded right on the cockpit of his craft, killing him instantly and turning his vessel into an orange ball of flame.

The sensor pilot had reacted almost instantly, but his shi was far too bulky to avoid the swarm. Still, his position behind the squad gave him a few extra seconds, time that he used wisely.

Flicking on the long range communications, he sent a message back to Discordia. "This is scanner cruiser alpha 501! We're under attack from unidentified hostiles and need immediate assistance! Coordinates follow: 10, 15.... AAAAARRRRGH!!!!!"

His transmission was cut off as the missiles found their mark and destroyed his ship.

There were four missiles left, two for each survivor. The tow fighter craft ducked and climbed, rolled and dived, weaving erratic flight paths in an attempt to foul the missile's tracking computers. Claw lost one of his pursuers by managing to dive beneath it. Losing it's lock on his ship, the missile arced off into the distance, where it would continue to fly until it burned up it's fuel reserves.

Claw spared a glance over at Larissa, and realised that she wasn't going to make it. A failed manoeuvre on her part had resulted in her missiles approaching her from different angles. No matter which wa she turned, they would still hit.

"Larissa!" he shouted into the comm. "Eject!"

"But..."

"Do it!"

He watched in relief as the cockpit section of her ship broke off from the rest of her craft, moments before the missiles found their mark. Her ship was incinerated, but she was still alive, the self-contained escape pod spiralling away from the blast.

Leaving only Claw and the remaining missile. He renewed his effort to lose it, the missile and his ship locked in a deadly dance of speed and dexterity. A dance that, sadly, Claw lost.

His mistake was minor but costly. He pulled his ship into a climb half a second too early, allowing the missile time to project his new trajectory and act accordingly. It detonated next to his ship's right engine, crippling the shi and sending it into an uncontrollable roll. The explosion knocked Claw violently forward, smacking his head into the steel dash with a sickening thud. The last thing he saw before passing out was the world his craft was now barrelling towards at an incredible speed.

High above, two ships shimmered into existence and watched Claw's flaming vessel hurtle towards the planet.

"Should we goa after him?" asked the pilot of one.

"Nah," said the other. "His ship's disabled. Gravity will finish him off for us. My sympathies go out to the people on that planet, though. When that antimatter reactor of his hits the ground, it'll make a hell of a bang."

"And what about the escape pod?"

"The life support in the pod will run out long befoe help arrives. We'll take it with us. The boss will be pleased that we brought a prisoner back."

"Good idea." The first ship swooped down on Larissa's escape pod. A large grapple descended from the ship, picking up the pod and loading it into his cargo hold.

The second pilot looked down at the trail of flame left by Claw's ship as it entered the world's atmosphere. "We took them by surprise this time, but I bet we won't be as lucky in our next battle."

"Indeed. They were in light fighters escorting a scanner cruiser with no shields. The next wing we fight will be more significant, with more powerful ships. Still, we have successfully made our presence known. Discordia will soon learn to fear the wrath of the Black Sun."

The two ships turned away from the planet, and accelerated into deep space.

* * *

Tasslehoff Burrfoot lay on the huge picnic blanket, staring with wonder at the stars in the clear, night sky. Of course, he wasn't THE Tasslehoff Burrfoot. He was merely one of the literally thousands of kender named after the legendary Hero of the Lance. Unfortunately, so were his two brothers and at least three cousins, making family reunions very complicated and confusing indeed.

"Tasslehoff? I'd like you to meet your cousin Tasslehoff. And here's your uncle Tasslehoff. No, not you, I was speaking to Tasslehoff. No, not you, either!"

Combine dialogue such as this with a kender's natural curiosity, as well as about a dozen coats on the rack marked "property of Tasslehoff Burrfoot", and you will have a fairly accurate idea of how an average reunion went.

This particular Tasslehoff was presently stargazing, something he did regularly when the sky was clear of clouds. He was fascinated by stars, glittering like jewels in the night sky. Tasslehoff wanted to know why such precious things were restricted to the sky, and not kept on Krynn along with it's other treasures. When he presented this question to his friend, the friend snorted derisively and said that it was probably so that light fingered kender couldn't "borrow" them.

Sitting next to him on the blanket was his friend, a young gnome named Flashbang (or at least, that was his human given name. Stating his gnomish name would have filled this entire story), who was working with a strange device. This device looked vaguely like one of the looking glasses that were commonly carried by sailors, only much larger. Roughly twelve feet in length, the huge lens was mounted on a large tripod that used steam powered hydraulics to swivel the lens into the desired position. The lens also provided multiple levels of magnification by rotating itself in the telescope.

Of course, being a gnomish invention, there were problems. For example, although the eyepiece was fully movable, hypothetically allowing you to view any part of the sky while still standing in a comfortable position, the only position that lined up correctly with the internal mirrors so that you could actually see, was just above the rear of the telescope and to the right, positioned so the eyepiece pointed the other way. Thus, when the gnomish astronomer wanted to view a star that was particularly high up in the sky, he would often have to lie on the ground and face the opposite direction of the constellation he was actually looking at.

Also, the hydraulics in the base would often fail, locking the telescope in one direction. That was the current problem, as Flashbang sat on the ground and whacked his invention with a hammer in an attempt to position it correctly. It was his life quest to map the entire starscape, complete with movement patterns and constellation changes. Of course, this was blatantly impossible, but accepting that something couldn't be done was not exactly one of the gnome's key attributes.

Before his invention jammed, he was keeping one eye on the stars and another on his good silverware, which he always brought with him for some reason during these night-time picnics. Tasslehoff didn't know why Flashbang was so cautious with them. After all, there weren't that many thieves here on the Dragon Isles, especially on the fields just to the east of Aurialastican. Just to be safe, the kender pocketed the silver for safekeeping when the gnome's attention was diverted. You never knew when some thief might come along and swipe them.

Curled up on the grass on the other side of the blanket from the kender, gnome and food scraps was Celia. She was a young silver dragon, and thus wasn't interested in the small morsels of food her mortal friends were eating. In fact she'd be asleep were it not for the rhythmic sound of Flashbang's hammer on the telescope. It seemed that every time she tried to doze off, that gnome would resume his work with renewed energy, clanging away in an attempt to repair his machine.

"Must you do that now?" she yawned.

BANG! "You know very well," BANG! "That I must resume my research," BANG! "Before the constellation I'm trying to observe," BANG! "Drastically changes position in the night sky."

"Then why not view it with your own eyes, rather than with that ridiculous contraption?"

Flashbang could tell by the poorly concealed grin on her reptilian face that she was teasing him. Being still a very young dragon, Celia was a playful creature, and enjoyed seeing the gnome's face go all red with rage whenever she mocked one of his inventions.

I won't give her the satisfaction this time, he thought, but went red in the face anyway. Turning back to the telescope, he tried to conceal his irritation by working harder. But still the machine didn't budge. In an unusual fit of temper, he brought the hammer down as hard as he could.

It hit with a THUNK!, and the lens spinned around madly, finally coming to rest pointing absurdly almost straight up. There was a hissing sound as steam began pouring from the stand's hydraulics.

Celia was practically purring with amusement. "Now look what you've done," she chuckled. "You've broken it!"

Flashbang was fuming. "Confounded hydraulics!" He kicked the telescope.

Tasslehoff was desperately trying not to laugh, but was having a hard time at it. Celia's amusement was infectious, and soon he was openly giggling.

"I don't see what's so funny," Flashbang said. "I worked for a month on the hydraulics for this stand!"

"The funny part," proclaimed Celia, "Is that the entire machine is unnecessary. The only reason it needs a stand is because you've weighed it down with useless parts. If you could just use the lens..."

Flashbang snorted. Savages! To even suggest that he break his grand machine down to it's most straightforward and boring of uses. It was blasphemy!

Bending down to examine the telescope, the gnome happened to catch a brief glance a the eyepiece, which was surprisingly in the correct position. He looked up to be sure the anomaly wasn't just a problem with the lens. "Say," he said. "What on Krynn is that?"

The others looked up, and at first couldn't see what Flashbang was pointing out. Then they saw it.

A new star had appeared in the night sky. At least, it looked like a star. Only this one was bigger and brighter than the others. Every now and then, a speck of light would break off, and zoom away, disappearing quickly. It was like watching a slow, orange spark.

"It's amazing," breathed Celia.

"It's beautiful," gaped Tasslehoff

"It's getting closer," stated the gnome.

And indeed it was. The spark was growing by the minute, and it was soon obvious that it was actually some object falling from the sky.

"Whatever it is, it's heading toward us at a fantastic speed." Flashbang was agape. He had seen shooting stars before, but never one that was heading straight at him.

"I'm taking a look," Celia announced.

"Great! I'm coming too!" Tasslehoff ran towards the dragon.

"No," she said. "If I'm going to catch this thing, I'll be flying very high, and very fast. The force would rip any rider off my back."

Ignoring the kender's look of disappointment, Celia unfurled her wings, and leaped into the sky.

* * *

Claw awoke to chaos. The rear of his ship was ablaze, the main engines were dead, the damaged life support system was spewing smoke into the cockpit, and he was barrelling towards the surface of an unknown planet.

Reaching above the main console, he ripped at the lever concealed there. A shower of sparks informed him that the ejection system was fried. He briefly considered punching out the canopy and gliding to the ground with his wings, then decided against it. At this velocity, the G-forces would tear him apart.

An alarm blared into life, announcing his next problem. The fuel tank was on fire. If he kept it he would be vaporised when it exploded; if he dumped it he'd have no fuel for the retro thrusters to slow his descent. With a sigh he thumped the emergency jettison, and watched the tank arc away from the ship. It exploded not three seconds later.

The smoke in the cockpit was getting worse. Claw began to hack and cough, no longer able to see the controls. He was beginning to wonder what kind of funeral they would give him back on Discordia, when he felt Celia's presence still soaring up towards the ship.

Celia sensed the dragonkin's presence at the same time. She couldn't tell much, but knew that he was in trouble, and that he could sense her too.

PELASE HELP ME. The telepathic message startled her, and it was a few moments before she replied.

Who are you? What are you doing here?

I'M CLAW. NO TIME TO DISCUSS WHY IM HERE. SUFFICE TO SAY I'M IN TROUBLE. MY VESSEL IS CRIPPLED, AND I CANNOT SLOW MY DESCENT.

I will help you.

THANK YOU. BUT I'M NOT SURE WHAT WE CAN DO. THIS VESSEL IS VERY HEAVY. YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO SLOW IT DOWN YOURSELF.

I will try anyway.

Celia slowed, watching the ship come closer and waiting for the right moment. When the vessel screamed past, she locked her claws around it. She was violently jolted, but maintained her grasp, and was now clinging to the ship. Spreading her wings to their full extent, she tried to slow the vessel down.

Claw wasn't kidding when he said it was heavy. The scout craft weighed almost fifteen tons, and the velocity was making it even heavier. Still struggling, she happened to glance down through the canopy into the cockpit.

Claw had suddenly forgotten about all his problems. Looking up through the smoke, he gazed with childlike wonder at the beautiful creature staring down at him.

He had seen silver dragons before, of course. Being half dragon himself, the draconic community in Discordia had accepted him as their kin. He was even close friends with a number of them.

But his dragon side told him that this was the most magnificent being he had ever seen in all his life. Her long, leathery wings fully extended and slicing through the air, her scales gleaming in the starlight, her mane blowing wildly in the screaming wind; he couldn't take his eyes off her. And he could tell by the look in her gorgeous dark blue eyes, that she was experiencing the same problem with him.

A flash of light in the corner of his eye shook him out of his trance. Looking down at the ground far below, the many pinpricks of light gave him a sudden warning of the stakes he was dealing with here.

Although it was a small vessel, Claw's ship carried with it a very potent antimatter reactor, which powered the consoles and life support systems. If he hit the ground at this velocity, the generator would erupt, making a crater fifty miles wide. Everything within that area would be obliterated. Even in the least populated of areas, the effects were devastating. And this wasn't an unpopulated area.

Claw's ship was aimed straight at Aurialastican, the City of Gold and capital of the Dragon Isles.

Claw relayed this information to Celia.

Is there anything we can do?

PERHAPS THERE IS. THERE IS ENOUGH FUEL LEFT IN THE THRUSTERS FOR ABOUT A SIX SECOND BURN. IT WON'T HELP ON ITS OWN, BUT WITH YOUR HELP WE MAY BE ABLE TO SLOW THIS SHIP DOWN SIFFICIENTLY ENOUGH FOR IT TO GLIDE TO THE GROUND OUTSIDE THE CITY. A LIGHTER IMPACT SUCH AS THHAT WOULD NOT DESTROY THE REACTOR.

Celia couldn't understand the technical terms, but Claw sent her mental images of what he meant.

I'm willing to try it.

THE TIMING WILL HAVE TO BE PRESCISE. TOO LATE AND IT WON'T MAKE A DIFFERENCE. TOO EARLY AND GRAVITY WILL CANCEL OUT THE EFFECT OF THE SHORT GLIDE.

I understand.

Claw placed his finger on the retro burn switch, and prayed to Firejewel, dragon goddess of Light, that this would work. He had done similar scenarios in Discordia's simulators, but they didn't compare to the real thing. The G-forces, the screaming wind, and the choking smoke all testified to the sim's inadequacies.

Doing a quick calculation in his head, he estimated that the burn would have to occur at about eight hundred feet for it to be effective. Waiting for the right moment was agony. He broke through several layers of wispy cloud cover, as the ground got closer and closer. He thought he saw other dragon on the way down, but they were either unwilling or afraid to help. They couldn't have helped anyway. Claw's ship was too small for another dragon to get a grip on.

The altimeter continued to drop. The shrieking air reached a crescendo, as the ship was pulled faster and faster towards the ground. Both dragon and half dragon tensed, knowing that the moment was near.

And then it was upon them.

Celia could feel it the instant the retros fired. The ship got lighter, began to slow very quickly. She grabbed both sides of the vessel firmly, spread her wings again, and pulled. She could feel immediately that they were changing direction. The ship's front lifted, moving slowly upwards until it was parallel with the horizon.

They levelled out just above the rooftops, heading east across the city at a fantastic speed. Now they could see the people below, pointing and yelling, running in all directions to get out of the way of the duo.

They were on the eastern outskirts of the city when the retros sputtered and died. Instantly the ship felt heavier again, and despite Celia's efforts, began to descend.

LET GO. THE SHIP WILL GLIDE NOW.

Celia released her grip and flapped her wings, soaring clear of the vessel. Indeed it appeared to be gliding. It was still losing altitude, but at a slow pace. And since the larger buildings were already cleared, it should make it into the fields.

That's when Celia noticed the statue. The tall, majestic statue of a gold dragon, that was right in Claw's flight path. And, with no fuel left, he had no way of avoiding it.

He was just low enough to clip the top of the statue, knocking off its head with a loud, jarring crack. The impact knocked his ship out of it's glide and sent it into a helpless roll.

The ship ploughed into the ground just outside the city. It cut a long, deep trench in the ground, finally coming to rest with a metallic sigh.

The cockpit's dome slowly began to open. There was a sudden harsh scraping sound as the dome broke off its warped hinges. Claw, battered and bleeding heavily, crawled out; dragging painfully behind what was obviously a broken leg. A gash on his forehead blinded his left eye with a constant flow of blood, and a very bad, throbbing pain in his skull told of a possible concussion. He heard a flapping of wings, and turned to see Celia land nearby through his blurry vision. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes, offered a brief, triumphant smile, and passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Whee, second chapter! Not much on the Krynn side in this one, but we are introduced to some of my favorite characters from the Discordia series. In particular we have the yaoi gnolls Caleb and Raoul, who were an absolute blast to create because not only were they fun to design, but it was hilarious to view the reactions of my friends when they read the story :P

* * *

"I am sorry, but it simply is not going to happen."

General Nitraku was annoyed. As councilor of the Might Virtue on Discordia, he was the highest authority on all things military, barring the Overseer herself. It fell on him to observe every major operation his forces and the hired mercenaries performed, and that often involved making some tough decisions. Decisions like the one he was making now.

He got up out of his chair and walked over to the massive window behind him, which made up almost the entire rear wall of his office high up in the military headquarters building. The metropolis of Discordia sprawled beneath him. Massive steel buildings of all descriptions reached up into the sky, reflecting the starlight cast through the clear, oval shaped dome many miles above. Huge vessels of every kind, from bristling destroyers and battleships to hulking freighters and cruise liners, buzzed about in the sky; while smaller fighter craft, scouts, cruisers and personnel transports zipped in and between the buildings.

Nitraku was a hound archon, a form of angel that was less commonly seen in the service of the Firejewel deity. A kind of canine human, hound archons didn't possess wings like other angels, but were widely known for their valor in combat. Nitraku stood about six and a half feet tall, with reddish brown fur, sharp paws, and a wolfish face whose eyes told of the many campaigns and missions he had been on during his career.

"I'd like to help you, I really would," he said over his shoulder to the two people standing on the other side of his desk. "But I can't risk any more lives in a search party, simply because you have a hunch that your commander is still alive."

The larger of the two replied. "Just give me one scanner cruiser. We already know two of the coordinates the distress signal sent before it was cut off. If we followed those vectors..."

"That's not the problem, Caleb! For all we know, there's a fucking army cloaked out there, just waiting for such a rescue attempt. Until we get data back from the probes we've sent out, I'm not authorizing a single ship for you to use."

Caleb was furious. He was a gnoll, a race not very well known for its patience. Although they looked vaguely similar to hound archons, the two species were never mistaken. Standing seven and a half feet tall, the average gnoll was a humanoid with the features of a hyena. Caleb was extremely powerfully built, with grey fur and a long mane that ran halfway down his back, worn in dreadlocks. He stood in Nitraku's office wearing full power armor, a gesture many would consider to be a threat of hostility, but one that Nitraku knew was simply marine custom, having been one himself in his early years. The snarl on Caleb's long fanged jaw, however, was indeed a hostile gesture.

"Claw's the best damn pilot we have! He's flown over a thousand missions, and has performed what we all thought was impossible on many occasions. And he's a born leader to boot. The Dragonclaws have the lowest fatality rate all the mercenary guilds..."

Nitraku wheeled around and slammed his fist into his desk. The impact made an horrific bang, and left a sizeable dent in the half-meter thick black marble. "Dammit, Caleb!" he shouted. "I know all that! Do you think I enjoy this decision? The Dragonclaws are the best guild out there, and the loss of Claw would be the end the whole group. He has saved my life and the lives of everyone on this ship on numerous occasions." He turned back to stare out the window. "But the decision has been made. The Overseer herself has ordered that the entire ship be locked down until we have some idea of what's out there. The last of the exterior ships are coming inside now. Once they have all docked, the bulkheads are being shut down until further notice. Not a single ship will get in or out."

Caleb's jaw dropped. "And you didn't object to such a decision?"

Nitraku made a weak smile. "I was the one who proposed it. We have encountered this situation before, Caleb. Countless lives have been lost because we did not react like this quickly enough. We have learned since then that you cannot underestimate the technology level and indeed the hatred that some civilizations possess. Discordia is a massive and powerful vessel, but the ships that travel with it are not. Most travel with us for security and protection. I cannot risk all those people for just one pilot squadron, no matter how much of an asset they may be."

"But we're not asking you to risk them!" That was the second person in the room, a kobold by the name of Gretch. Kobolds were short little bipeds with scaly red skin, tiny little claws and horns. Gretch wore torn black leather pants and a faded flight jacket. A pair of flight goggles, far too big for him, rested on his head, signifying that he was either a pilot or a technician. As it turns out, he was a bit of both, although computers were his specialty. At just over four feet, Gretch was practically on the tips of his toes in order to see over the desk. "You could just open the bulkheads long enough for us to pass through," he said in his usual yipping voice. "And then again when we return. No security threat, no problems." He grinned hopefully up at the archon.

Nitraku sighed heavily. "I am sorry, but I cannot. My hands are tied. Any ship going out there could very well be flying to their deaths. I will not send out a single military pilot while we can do a sweep with probes to determine if there are any cloaked ships out there. I just wish they could gather planet data too, so that I would not have had to send Claw and those rookies out there in the first place, but the sensors on probes are too weak to gather such detailed and diverse information. So I am afraid that those bulkheads are staying closed until the all-clear is given."

Caleb eyed the general. "Then I guess we've done nothing but wasted your time. Sorry for the interruption, _sir_. We'll take our leave, now. C'mon, Gretch."

As they left the office, the door purring shut behind them, Nitraku looked out at the nearest bulkhead. As the last ship passed through to Discordia's interior, the huge airlock door slowly swung shut, sealing the ships inside. "I hope we are doing the right thing..." he said aloud to no-one in particular.

* * *

"This sucks," said Gretch for the fifth time. "All we need is one cruiser and for them to open a bulkhead for five seconds so that we can get out."

Caleb turned back to the autotaxi they had just taken and transferred his credit to the computer driver. After receiving it's fare, the small vessel lifted off the landing pad and sped off towards its next customers. "Well what do you expect me to do? We've got no scanner ship and no way to get it out if we did."

Gretch fell into an annoyed silence and followed the gnoll along an arched walkway towards the Dragonclaw building. Being only a moderately sized mercenary guild, the Dragonclaws had no need for real estate outside of living quarters, an armory and a ship hangar, and their building emphasized that. Squat and blockish, laser and missile turrets adorning the walls, the entire structure was certainly not designed with artistic architecture in mind. It showed just what the Dragonclaws were – a military oriented guild that took their security seriously.

They reached the building, and stood before a sealed door flanked by a complex looking security terminal. Placing his claw on a panel, Caleb leaned towards the terminal and spoke into its speaker. "Caleb, marine commander." There was a pause as the terminal checked his hand's DNA, scanned his retina, and analyzed his voice. After a few moments, the terminal glowed green. The door purred open, and Caleb entered a gunmetal grey corridor, Gretch trailing close behind.

"I just feel so helpless," the gnoll said. "For all we know, Claw and his squadron are marooned somewhere in this solar system, and we're sitting on our hands when we should be mounting a search party."

"They're probably dead, you know," Gretch said suddenly. "I mean, if they still had their ships, at least one of them would have sent a message by now. And even if they did manage to eject, those escape pods only last for about twenty-four hours before their batteries die and lose life support."

"They're not dead. I know it. Something tells me that at least Claw is still alive."

Gretch thought about it for a moment. He didn't really think any of them survived, but decided to humor Caleb, anyway. Gnolls were surprisingly quick to anger. "Hmmm... the only way they could last for long is if they landed on a planet or something. But since there haven't been any transmissions, I guess it's safe to assume that they crashed there."

"Yes," Caleb agreed. "If he's still alive, he'll be on a planet. That would narrow our search down quite a lot."

As the two took a left turn down an adjacent corridor, a familiar voice could be heard booming from the recreation room up ahead.

"Listen to me, you demented pile of scrap metal! I've already paid, so stop asking for credits and GIVE ME MY FUCKING BEER!!!"

Caleb grinned, his troubles temporarily forgotten. He knew whose voice that was.

The rec room was probably the most popular location on the base, though due to differing mission times, it rarely had more than one or two squads in it at once. It was roughly twenty-five meters square, and although it had the same gunmetal grey walls as the rest of the base, they were plastered with posters and ads of all kinds. The center of the room had a large pool table, which according to Caleb's last count, was missing three of its balls and both cues. The western side of the room was dedicated to gaming and gambling; slot and pinball machines, flight simulators and the like. Occupying the east wall was the bar, where you could order pretty much any kind of alcohol imaginable, provided you could pay the tab. On the north wall was a giant plasma screen that displayed movies and news reports. Near the screen was enough couches and recliners to comfortably seat around twelve

The southern wall had a large window that gave people a view of downtown Discordia. It was also home to a malfunctioning multi-purpose vending machine, which was supposed to provide you with a wide selection of snacks and beverages. Unfortunately, a glitch in its system would sometimes cause it to deny that you ever gave it any credits for a purchase.

It was at this machine that Caleb and Gretch focused their attention. Or rather, the person standing in front of it who was conducting a losing argument with the device. Clad in brown leather armor, this creature was obviously a gnoll. Strange red symbols adorned his black fur, and Caleb knew from experience that those symbols decorated his entire body.

"That's it!" he screamed. "This is the last time you steal my money!" The gnoll drove his fist into the vending machine. Although he was of lesser build than most of his kind he was still quite powerful, and the impact left a massive dent. A frenzy of sparks leaped out, and the dying machine emitted a teeth-grating, mechanical screech as it happily purged its entire contents, disgorging chocolate bars, soda cans and beer bottles all over the floor. Gretch yelped in delight and leaped down on all fours, stuffing his pockets with candy.

The black haired gnoll knelt down and picked up his beer with a nod of satisfaction, drinking it in one long gulp.

Some people never change, thought Caleb with a smile. "Raoul!"

Raoul wheeled around. "Caleb!" He strode over and wrapped his arms around Caleb's neck in a loving embrace. "I didn't see you there."

"I noticed. You were too busy murdering our only vending machine."

Raoul glanced back at the now useless lump of metal. "Bah! It had it coming. Charged me two hundred credits and didn't deliver."

Caleb laughed. "Only you would kill a vending machine over an amount as small as two hundred credits. Although I agree that it had it coming. To think of all the money I put into it without getting anything back..."

Noticing that Gretch had filled his pockets, pants and jacket with candy bars and was now trying to stuff even more into his mouth, Raoul regretfully pulled out of the embrace and walked over to the pile. "Okay, little kobold," he said as he picked up Gretch by the back of his collar. "I think you've got enough there."

"Mmmmph mupph muuuh!!!!" Gretch said in protest, arms and legs flailing wildly.

"Calm down," Raoul continued. "Besides, I've got a present for you. A little something I picked up on my last assignment."

Putting Gretch down, he removed a strange looking, palm sized item from an inner pocket and handed it to the kobold. It was a black, round device with a tiny screen on the face along with a keypad. An interface port protruded from the top.

Gretch's eyes lit up in excitement, and he spat out the candy wrappers so that he could voice his astonishment. "A HackSoft!" He caressed the hacking tool lovingly. "I've been trying to find one of these for ages! Thanks!"

Raoul beamed. "No problem. Actually, scrounging for parts turned out to be the highlight of the entire mission."

Gretch ran off towards his living quarters, probably so that he could munch on his ill-gotten chocolate and examine the HackSoft.

"So those hackers your team was assigned to take out didn't put up much of a fight?" Caleb asked.

"Nah. We tracked them down to a cargo freighter called the Rotten Elixir. They were on a moving ship so that they could relocate and make it harder for us to track them."

"Did you find out what their intentions were?"

"They turned out to be just a group of rebel teens out for a laugh. Nothing but scrawny, pale faced computer nerds by the looks of 'em. We blew out their ship's airlock and stormed the place, but they all surrendered as soon as they saw us. No-one even got to fire a shot. They're all in the hands of the Enforcers, now. It will be some time before they try to mess with Discordia's security grid again."

Caleb snorted. "Stupid kids. They waste our time when we could be going after significant targets that actually posed a real threat. So, err... where are the rest of your team?"

"Ha! Like they'd come down for a celebratory drink after such a pointless mission. I'm only here because I make it a tradition to get drunk after every assignment, regardless of how it went."

"You shouldn't do that," Caleb said with a smile. "One of these days, you'll wake up in bed with some huge, hairy creature for a mate."

Raoul cuddled Caleb, running his claw down the larger gnolls neck in a loving caress. "I fail to see how that would be a bad thing," he purred.

Caleb felt a rush of pleasure at the touch, and for a moment wanted to forget about all his troubles and be with his companion. But it was interrupted by a wave of guilt. Here he was, in an embrace, while Claw and his team could be marooned, maybe even dying on some unknown world.

Raoul, feeling his lover tense, looked up at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

Caleb sighed. "You haven't heard, have you? About the lockdown?"

"Lockdown? We just came back from our assignment, and haven't been debriefed yet. What are you talking about?"

He told Raoul about Claw's disappearance, about how the ship was sealed until further notice.

"Shit!" cursed Raoul, who was now pacing the room. "If only there was some way we could leave this ship... we could go searching."

"Well, there isn't," said Caleb, leaning against the pool table. "We've thought about it for ages, and there's nothing we can do without a scanner cruiser and launch clearance."

"Are you certain that Claw's still alive?"

"Positive. He's been in worse situations than this. I can't speak for the rookies he was flying with, but I'm sure he's still alive."

Raoul looked at him with concern. Although Caleb didn't feel towards the commander the way he felt for him, he still held a great admiration for Claw. Raoul didn't think Caleb was being tortured by the fact that the commander was missing, but rather because there wasn't anything he could to help. Being ex-military, Caleb held a great respect for leaders who actually led, rather than sit around at some base miles from the actual battle. Claw may be their leader, but he was also a mercenary just like them, and was constantly getting his hands dirty with the rest of his company on missions. That was a quality Caleb admired, and so he felt an undying loyalty towards the hybrid. A loyalty that Raoul feared may one day tear his soul apart.

It was at this point that Gretch rushed back into the rec room. "Raoul," he breathed, gasping for air. "If you're back, then doesn't that mean the Angel's Sorrow is back in the hangar?"

"Well, of course," Raoul said, puzzled. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Gretch smiled, and revealed his hastily designed plan.

* * *

Xavier had always loved the dark. He had spent many of his childhood years trying to figure out why. What was it about the absence of light that so fascinated him? What was it about the blanketing darkness that filled him with wonder? Then he realized what it was.

It was because, without the scorching light to smother it, the world was shrouded in mystery. It exhilarated and terrified him at the same time, inviting him to venture forth and discover its secrets, both wonderful and terrible. It was an invitation that he found impossible to resist.

But there was another reason, too. It also made things stand out in a way that they never did during the day. Once the burning sun had sunk below the horizon, other, gentler lights took its place in what could be a truly stunning display. Whether it was the leaves of a great tree shining in the pale moonlight or the sparkling monoliths of a teeming metropolis; the tantalizing silhouette of a lover wreathed in shadow or a ship gleaming in the soft yet spectacular twilight of a billion stars; darkness brought out the best in all things.

The darkness made things beautiful.

He reflected upon this as he sat in the dark captain's quarters of his command ship. The ships artificial lighting certainly served its purpose, but even that could sting sometimes. Darkness never did that. It never hurt ones eyes that way. It was always gentle and kind.

The Black Sun leader sat on the bed of his quarters and ran his fingers through his short beard. Xavier was sixty-eight, but technically almost a million years old if you counted all the time he had spent in suspended animation. He was surprisingly fit for one of his age, though, with a strong build and short black hair, which now contained prominent streaks of grey. His eyesight was as good as ever, his deep brown eyes capable of spotting a target miles away.

A familiar presence suddenly filled the dimly lit room, and Xavier eagerly turned his attention towards it.

This was another reason why he loved the dark.

It was where SHE came from.

HELLO, MY LOVE. The voice was feminine, loving and dangerously seductive at the same time. It appeared in his mind, making every nerve in his body tingle with pleasure and shrink away in fear. This was what he lived for, he thought. This is what directed his every move, his every decision. He wanted, more than anything else, to please this being, regardless of what would happen to his body, mind or even soul in the process. Nothing mattered besides her happiness.

"Hello, Mistress," he said in a shuddering voice.

DO YOU BRING ME NEWS?

"Everything is proceeding as you planned, Mistress. Our pilots encountered the scouting team at the exact coordinates, and the trap worked perfectly. The scouts are now dead, except for one that we have taken prisoner."

SHE WILL BE USEFUL TO US, BUT THE ELF WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE TO COME OUT ALIVE. ANOTHER SURVIVED.

"What?" Xavier was genuinely surprised. The pilots had reported killing all of them. He would have to discipline the two severely for the lie.

IT IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE. THE SURVIVOR IS A PITIFUL HALFBREED, WHO IS NOW STRANDED ON A WORLD THAT WILL NOT TAKE KINDLY TO THE FACT THAT HE WORSHIPS AN ALIEN GODDESS. HE WILL NOT SURVIVE LONG, AND KNOWS NOTHING VALUABLE ABOUT US ANYWAY. HE MATTERS NOT, the voice became playful. BUT I WILL LEAVE THE FATE OF THE LIERS IN YOUR HANDS.

"Thank you, Mistress," Xavier said. "They will serve as an example as what happens to those who fail in their tasks."

VERY WELL. NOW, TELL ME OF DISCORDIA AND THEIR REACTION TO OUR ATTACK.

Xavier smiled. "They are in a state of emergency. Their ships are recalled to inside the hull and the bulkheads are sealed."

EXCELLENT, the voice purred. THEIR UNEASE WILL WORK IN OUR FAVOR. NOW THEY WILL GROW PARANOID AS TO WHAT AWAITS THEM ON THE OUTSIDE.

"Indeed, Mistress. What do you require of me now?"

There was a pause as the voice seemed to consider. I NEED YOU TO TRAVEL TO THE LOWER PLANES. THERE IS ONE WHO OWES ME A FAVOR. I BELIEVE HE WILL BE HELPFUL IN FURTHERING OUR CAUSE.

"I will depart immediately, Mistress."

GOOD. I HAVE ALTERED YOUR SIXTH SHUTTLE CRAFT TO TRANSPORT YOU TO THE PLANE IN QUESTION. IT WILL TAKE YOU THERE ONCE YOU ACTIVATE ITS ENGINES. BUT FIRST, ALLOW ME TO PROVIDE YOU WITH A GIFT.

"A gift?"

YES. THE CREATURE I WANT YOU TO CONTACT WILL NOT ASSOCIATE WITH A MERE HUMAN. I WILL... IMPROVE YOU. I WISH TO ADD SOME SMALL BEAUTY TO THAT ROTTING FLESH YOU CALL A BODY.

A great pain suddenly lashed through Xavier. It felt as if his bones were trying to turn themselves inside out and grind each other to dust. But it was also surprisingly pleasurable, triumphant even. It was the pain that made him scream, but it was the pleasure with it that made him continue to do so. Then the pain shot into his head and concentrated in his eyes. There the feeling changed, now feeling more like breaking out of a shell and ascending into a higher form of existence. He shut his eyes, letting the feeling consume him...

...and woke up on the floor. He felt... different. More energetic. More... youthful. He felt more aware with his surroundings. Xavier sensed the supposedly silent ventilation system as the oxygen molecules bounced through it. He sensed the density of the hull in his quarters, and also felt a vague glimpse of the energy currents in the void on the other side.

I HAVE HONORED YOU, MY DARLING. YOU HAVE NOW BEGUN A TRANSFORMATION, ONE THAT WILL SOON MAKE YOU INTO A BEAUTIFUL BEING THE LIKES OF WHICH ARE ALMOST NEVER SEEN ANYMORE ON THIS PLANE. IN TIME, YOU WILL BECOME INVINCIBLE.

He opened his eyes, pupil less eyes that now glowed a fiery red.

NOW GO, the voice urged. WE MUST ACT SWIFTLY IF WE ARE TO SUCCEED. DO NOT FAIL ME, MY DEAREST.

Xavier got up off the floor, dusted himself off, and headed for the ship's shuttle hangar.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Chapter 3 now, and we have a little a bit of background on our hybrid's past. After writing a little about him, I was surprised to find that fans of the series had a tendency to hate Claw, instead considering some of the more minor characters as the scene stealers. Anyway, here we see some more Dragonlance characters, I do apologize in advance for any errors I've made in regards to their personalities and behavior.

* * *

"Awaken, dragonling"

Claw slowly opened his eyes, and waited for his vision to focus. He was lying on a small wooden bed covered with a blanket. His wings ached slightly from lying face up on his back for so long, and he was slightly amused to find that he was still clad in his armor. It couldn't be opened by anyone besides the user without first destroying it, so he supposed they had just left it on when they noticed its healing properties.

The bed was in a barely furnished room with white stone walls. A basic wooden chair and table adorned the right hand side of the bed, and a small pitcher and bowl sat on the table. Sunlight streamed in through a small, barred window above the bed, and Claw assumed from the faint sounds of seagulls and crashing waves beyond it that he was in the coastal city he crashed near.

With his vision now almost clear, Claw focused his eyes on the two people standing at the foot of the bed. They looked to be an elderly couple, and both were dressed in the regal robes of office. Although their faces reflected elderly age, they appeared to be thoughtful and contemplative, and without a hint of senility.

Their human disguises were almost perfect, but Claw's reptilian senses told him that they were dragons. Gold dragons, to be precise.

"We have been wondering when you would awaken, dragonling," said the woman with a smile. "I am Regia, and this is Arumnus. I can tell from your expression that you can sense our true forms. We are the high elders of the dragon council here on the Isles."

"I am honored by your presence," said Claw, genuinely. "Why have I attracted the attention of such influential beings?"

Regia was obviously pleased by the response. "It is good to see that not all minions of Takhisis are without chivalry and manners. How... interesting."

"Takhisis?" Claw asked, puzzled. "I serve no-one by that name."

"Oh, please!" said Arumnus with a smile. "A ball of flame drops from the skies, narrowly avoiding killing us all. It crashes on the outskirts of the city, and what comes forth from the shell? The descendant of a chromatic dragon! And a red, no less." He eyed Claw shrewdly. "Bluffing your way out of this will not work, dragonling. You are in the grand palace of Aurialastican, the City of Gold, and we have posted guards at every door. There are also hundreds of dragons in the city who would have no qualms with destroying you if you try to escape."

"What do you want from me?"

"Simple," said Regia. "We want information. Why were you sent here? What are your objectives?"

"I'm not supposed to be here. I crashed."

"So you were spying on us."

"No!" Claw shook his head. "It's not like that at all. I'm..." He paused. Did he really want to tell these people who he was, and where he was from? Their society would most likely consider him mad, but if the story was ever validated...

"I'm..." he thought about what to say. "...a traveler."

Regia looked at the hybrid thoughtfully. "You're telling the truth about that, but I sense that you're holding a lot back from us. Answer us this... are you a minion of the Dark Queen?"

"No, I have never heard of this Takhisis before."

"You're telling the truth," said Arumnus with a sigh. "I don't know what your story is, dragonling..."

"Claw."

"Very well," he said with a hidden smile. "I don't know your story, Claw, but I know now that you are not here to harm us. At least, not in the usual interpretation of the word."

"What I want to know," said Regia. "Is how you don't know of Takhisis. Every man, woman and child of every race on Krynn have suffered at her hands, or have at least heard of her."

"That is a long story," sighed Claw.

"Then we shall hear of it later," beamed Arumnus. "Right now, you should rest and recover from your injuries. That extraordinary armor you wear appears to be assisting you in that regard. Once you are fully recovered, we will hear your tale."

"Thank you, milord." The hybrid settled back into the bed, and was soon asleep again.

The two left the room, closing the door behind them.

"What do you think?" asked Arumnus once they were in the hall.

"I don't trust him," replied Regia. "He may not be our enemy, but he is certainly not an ally. We will keep a close watch." She turned to one of the two guards at the door. "Do not allow him to leave the room for now. We will return later."

The dragons footsteps echoed down the hall as they left to attend to other business.

* * *

Claw, age eighteen, stood atop one of Discordia's lofty communications towers, and tightened the red ceremonial robe he wore over his ordinary clothes against the chill air. Over fifteen hundred feet tall, these largely automated towers were very thin, excluding the large round platforms at the top; and were used to direct all internal and external comm signals sent and received by the ship and its many inhabitants. No-one ever wanted to be up there unless maintenance was required, and Claw didn't want to be there either.

Lying behind the hybrid and taking up most of the surface was a huge red dragon. It was more than seventy feet long and thus had to curl up on the platform, which groaned alarmingly under the excessive weight.

"It was a grand celebration, was it not?" asked the dragon in a deep voice.

"Indeed, father," said Claw with a sigh. "Though I don't think I'm worth such grandeur. Malachi didn't have to write me a hymn."

"The day Discordia's future ruler comes of age is warrant of a massive and grand ceremony, Claw," the dragon smiled. "And do not try and tell me you disapprove of your present."

The half-dragon remembered the enchanted armor with longing. "I look forward to wearing it, father. It's a magnificent suit of plate mail."

"That is true, Claw. Of course, it still must be modified to suit your form, but we should have it ready for you in a day or so. It was last worn by your predecessor, you know."

Claw wheeled around in astonishment. "Talon?" he gasped.

"Yes. Talon wore it with pride as he marched at the head of his army and led his soldiers across the wastelands towards Xitharon and conquest of the elves. Legends even say that it was the sight of him, resplendent in that plate mail, that caused the first wave of indecision and fear to surge through the elfin leaders and to foster panic in the hearts of their footmen."

"I'm not worthy of such a gift, father."

"Yes you are!" The dragon shifted his massive weight, causing the tower to creak again. He gestured to the colony stretching off seemingly into infinity, the lofty buildings, the twisting walkways, the millions of ships. "One day, all here will crawl on their hands and knees, begging your approval. Our order will see to that. And once you claim your rightful heritage, you will lead this vessel to magnificence and glory."

"I fear that I'll be unable to accomplish what you want of me."

"You will accomplish. You have excelled in almost all of your lessons. There is not a single being on this vessel more worthy of such rulership. However, there is but one lesson that you still have problems with."

Claw sighed. "Father, you know that I try my best. I push myself to the limit, and yet I still cannot accomplish in that area. Maybe I simply cannot fly."

"But you can! You are one of the few creatures blessed with wings, and you CAN use them."

"But I've tried! They simply haven't grown to the correct length yet."

"I do not believe that is the case," the dragon insisted. "You are simply not mentally geared for it. You have not been in a situation where it was necessary to fly, and thus your natural instincts have not taken over yet." He paused. "That is why I brought you here."

"What?" Claw took a step away from the great leviathan, but couldn't go far, as his father took up half of the platform.

"It is time for you to learn how to fly, and you will learn the same way as all other creatures in the animal world. Brace yourself, Claw. It is time to prove yourself." With that, he suddenly moved his huge tail in one quick sweep, knocking the hybrid off the platform.

The wind shrieked past and spun him around hopelessly as Claw plummeted towards the steel ground far below. As he shot down past the top of the building, their glass windows flew sickeningly by in a mad show of light and air. He screamed as he began to fall between speeding craft and mazelike girders between the buildings. Then he saw them.

Headlights. Headlights that were going almost straight up, approaching him at a fantastic speed.

Everything that occurred next seemed to happen at once. As he fell towards those rapidly growing lights, a strange calmness overtook him. Suddenly he knew what he had to do to fly. He spread his wings, and his descent was slowed.

But it was too late. Lights shot up to meet him, the glare blocking out all else and turning his world a blazing, painful white...

...which flew past him. Claw, confused, was unprepared as another set of glaring lights went by in the same direction as the first. It took some time for his blurry vision to identify these as the corridor lights of a hospital, where he was being frantically wheeled down on in a stretcher towards the operating rooms. Unrefined shapes ran beside him, and exchanged worried voices. Another shape caught up with him, and he could make out what was being said.

"Good lord, what happened?"

"This one fell off a comm tower. An ascending cargo ship broke his fall. Almost every bone in his body is shattered, and he's bleeding internally."

"By the powers!"

"Yes. He's lucky he's a hybrid, a full human would have died on impact."

Claw tried to say something, anything... but pain clouded his vision and wrapped around him like a second skin, and dug it's roots deep inside him. It was everywhere, it covered him, it was inside him, and he wanted more than anything for it to go away, to just leave him alone. All he could do was twitch, and even that made the pain wash over him in new and more powerful ways.

"Did you see that? He's still conscious! Why haven't you put him under?"

"We tried! His draconic immune system is rejecting every painkiller we have! They're not doing anything at all for him!"

"Nurse, get me two vials of DX-20 right now!"

"But that's lethal to humanoid creatures! It's too potent, that's why it's only ever used on full dragons. They're the only ones who can handle it!"

"We have to try, dammit! We'll dilute it to compensate for his human half. Don't know if that will work, but we have to take a shot at it. I've never seen injuries this horrendous before!"

"What percentage do we dilute it by?"

"I don't know, it's never been tried before. We also don't know how much of him is human, so there's no way of telling..."

The words receded from his grasp as the pain reached a crescendo. It was all over him, it WAS him. His entire life had become nothing but agony. Agony that totally immersed him, filled every part of his body, and drowned out his sanity.

But then, a strange voice filled his ears. A woman's voice, it was calm, serene, and beautiful. It was humming, he realized. Humming a tune he had never heard before. As he listened, the voice began to sing.

"The warm sun sets as the day grows late

Descending on another's fate

Their soul departs in a flash of light

Forever faded from our sight"

The words filled the hybrid with peace. The song washed away his pain, and the dream began to waver like the surface of a disturbed pond. He closes his eyes, tears streaming down his face as the song entered its second verse.

"But do not grieve, do not mourn

As with their departure, another is born

And while we take that tear streaked lane

The circle of life begins again"

Claw opened his eyes, and found himself back in the crude, wooden bed on Krynn. He looked towards the source of the voice, and what he saw took his breath away.

Sitting at the table was the most achingly beautiful human woman he had ever seen. Wearing a flowing white dress with a black corsette, she had shining hair that looked like threads spun from molten silver. The hair was in thin dreadlocks, and almost reached down to her waist, the sunlight reflecting off it in a dazzling display. Her lovely face was soft and caring, her eyes the deepest blue. As she sang the final verse of the song in her melodious voice, Claw knew that his human half, along with his draconic one, was now deeply in love with this dragon that had saved his life.

"For though mountains crumble, and forests fall

And great cities collapse, foundations and all

Forever is the tide, and when night is gone

The sun will rise, and start a new dawn."

He stared admiringly at her as the song ended. "That was beautiful," he breathed.

At the sound of his voice, Celia turned around in astonishment. "I wasn't aware I had an audience," she said, blushing.

"You are a wonderful singer."

"Thank you." She lowered her eyes. "My mother taught me that song, right before she died. I guess that was how she tried to prepare me for the times to come."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Celia looked up and appeared to be about to say something, but then shook her head sadly and changed the subject. "So how are you doing?"

"I'm still in one piece," Claw smiled. "Always a good thing after a crash landing."

She smiled back. "Well, you seem to be recovering very quickly. We were worried when we couldn't remove your armor, but it seems to heal your wounds, so I suppose it's all right."

"Yeah, this armor has saved my life many times," said Claw. "Although it's abilities are limited. It can't heal mortal wounds or regenerate limbs. Still, it's very useful for one who lacks the full potential of draconic healing."

"Where did you get it?"

"My father," Claw shuddered as the memory threatened to return. "He gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday."

"He must love you very much, to part with such an artifact."

"Actually, he isn't really the kind of person you would call loving. He... wanted something in return. Something I couldn't possibly provide."

Celia looked at him questioningly. "Was your father a dragon?"

"Yes. A red. And probably one of the most powerful dragons on Disc... my world."

"And your mother? What was she like?"

"She was a human," sighed Claw. "Or at least that's what I'm told. She died while I was very young. I don't even remember her."

"I'm sorry, you probably don't want to talk about it."

"That's ok. I like talking to you. It's very..." the rest of the sentence was cut off in a gasp.

"What's wrong?" Celia asked, puzzled and a little frightened.

"Not now," gasped Claw. "Oh god, not now!" His vision went out of focus, and he began to tremble violently. He reached out to Celia. "You have to help me!"

"What can I do? What's happening to you?"

"I need some medication. It's probably back at my ship, in a small yellow box." He managed to keep his mind focused long enough to picture it in his mind and send it to her telepathically. "I need it, and soon!"

"Allright," Celia stammered. "I'll go and get it. Will you be okay on your own for a while..."

"Just go!"

As she hurried out of the room, Claw's vision grew worse. The walls and roof became indistinct, swaying from side to side. The light from the window seemed to intensify, reaching a blinding magnitude, and then...

* * *

...he was back in the hospital, staring up at an all-too-bright ceiling light. His body was covered in a wire frame that were setting his bones, yet it didn't impede the trembling. A doctor in a labcoat, an elf judging by his features, was standing at the end of his bed, looking at a clipboard with a sad expression on his face. Claw turned his shaking head towards the door as a second doctor, a kali, entered to confer with the first.

"How is the patient?"

"Just as we feared," he held the clipboard for the kali to see. "Look at these stats."

"Damn! I knew this would happen."

"Don't beat yourself up over it. There was nothing we could do. If we diluted it any more, it would have been totally ineffective."

"I know, I know. The knowledge doesn't help, though."

The doors at the end of the room slammed open as a heavily built man stormed in. He wore robes that at first appeared to be black, but were actually a very dark red upon closer examination. The man walked up to the doctors. "How is he?" he asked.

The doctors exchanged wary glances. "Who are you?" asked the elf

"I am his father, and I demand to know his condition." He stared at Claw with narrowed eyes. "Why is he shaking like that?"

"His immune system was throwing off all normal painkillers," said the kali. "so we were forced to use a diluted batch of DX-20."

"That does not answer my question."

"I'm getting to that. We had to keep it concentrated enough to render him unconscious long enough for us to operate. Unfortunately, these are the aftereffects."

"His system, although too powerful to accept normal medication, was still too weak for the concentration we administered," said the elf. "I'm afraid his body has become totally dependent on the drug. He will most likely spend the rest of his life as an addict."

Claw's father looked at his son with undisguised revulsion on his face. "This cannot happen," he muttered.

"There is another thing we must discuss," said the kali. "This was a very horrendous yet rare accident. We would like to know what exactly he was doing up on that comm tower in the first place. And what made him fall."

"It was... a training accident. Nothing more."

"Right," said the elf warily. "Well, there are numerous forms we would like you to fill out. If you would just come this way..."

"One moment." He strode over to the side of the bed, and looked down at the hybrid.

"I did it, father," said Claw in a trembling voice. "I began to fly."

"Indeed," he replied. "And we can now continue your training, right after you have healed your wounds. In the meantime, I suggest you not neglect your studies. Although it will be difficult to read in your current condition."

Claw's father turned towards the doctors. "What will you do about the current situation?"

"A nurse will be here shortly with a vial. In the meantime, we need you to fill out those forms..."

"Of course."

Claw watched them leave, his eyes trying to focus on their departing forms. For a few moments he was alone. Time passed slowly, almost painfully, and he began to worry that he would never see anyone again, even though but a few minutes had actually passed. He hated hospitals. Hated them with a passion. The cold, sterile walls, the glaring lights, the maddening noises of respirators and various other life support machines, it all combined to make one of the most bleak and lonely places in the world.

As he reflected bitterly on the subject, the doors opened again, and a woman entered bearing a hypodermic. She had gleaming silver hair worn in dreadlocks, and deep blue eyes.

* * *

The dream faded away again as Celia walked up to the bed with one of the hypos she had found. She looked at him questioningly as what to do with it.

"The neck," he said weakly. "Inject it into the side of my neck."

She hesitantly pressed the hypo into his neck, heard the faint hiss of the DX-20 being injected into his system, and let out a small sigh of relief as Claw's trembling slowly stopped.

The hybrid felt a sudden weariness sweep over him, as the drug always did to him after he took it. He settled back into the bed and began to doze off, but not before focusing his gaze on Celia, gratitude and love plainly evident in his eyes.

Celia stared long at the hybrid's sleeping form, both happiness and sadness conflicting her heart. She knew that she was falling for this creature, and that he was falling for her. She wanted to nurture this affection, to help it grow within the both of them, but was also terribly worried. A union between a dragon and a mortal rarely ever happened among dragon society, and it had never happened with a traveler who literally fell from the sky.

The dragon looked at Claw and wondered what the future would hold for them. It seemed so frightening, so dark... and yet strangely exciting. Her heart was torn in two, unable to decide what she should do.

"Follow your heart and your soul, and you will never be led astray." Celia was startled by the remembered words of her mother. She hadn't thought about them for a long time, she had never really understood those words when she first heard them. Now, though, she finally understood their true meaning.

Her mind filled with worry and indecision, Celia sat by Claw and waited for him to wake.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: Another purely Discordia sided chapter. See why I was beginning to wonder whether this belonged in FF or FP? Don't worry, the next chapter is almost purely Krynn-sided. In any case, we see two of the deities from the campaign here, along with some more background info. I think it's only right to warn you that if you hate Caleb and Raoul by now, you had best avoid the middle section of this chapter, they show their intimacy in rather graphic detail. It is unsurprisingly one of the scenes that gave my series a reputation for being utterly bizarre, D&D-wise.

* * *

Xavier stepped out of the shuttle onto the hard, black rock of his destination, and was instantly chilled by the harsh cold wind and drenched by a heavy rain. He looked around to get his bearings. The shuttle had landed on a large outcropping of rock jutting out of a massive cliff face. A freezing, icy gale swept through everything in sight, but the devil-spawn couldn't work out whether it blew from the east or west, or the north or south. This was because there was no sun. A bleak, cloud packed sky rumbled and crackled overhead, just like on a stormy, overcast morning. But this one was eternal. Far below, the wind churned up a neverending sea into massive waves, while high above the cliff leveled out into a giant mesa, currently out of his line of sight.

According to the directions he was given, Xavier knew that he was now in the realm known as Blackencliffe, located deep within the lower planes. This was the final destination of evil creatures from worlds controlled by the devil mother known as Maeiconaa. These doomed souls were dragged under the surface of the bottomless sea by the fierce wind and pelting rain, where they spend eternity in a constant state of drowning.

Maeiconna herself was said to be very reclusive, living in a clockwork castle at the top of the mesa. This was Xavier's destination. Looking around, he tried to find a way up the towering cliff face, at first seeing nothing through the storm. But as he walked around the outcropping for a time, he came across a narrow, winding trail that spiraled up the cliff. He looked at the trail in disbelief. It was only about four feet across and slicked with condensed ice. With a deep breath Xavier stepped tentatively onto the trail and began to traverse it, edging along precariously lest he slip and join those souls far below in their fate.

As he made his way up the cliff, he slowly began to notice changes that were happening to him. For example, back when he was a standard human he probably wouldn't have been able to make out the trail through the rain blocking his vision and the wind forcing his eyes half-closed. But now everything was outlined in a shade of red, as if he wore some sort of night-vision goggles, and the path was clearly visible. Also, it was evident that he wasn't tiring out as quickly as he used to. Clearly, without these "upgrades" he would not have been able to travel this path as quickly and expertly as he was now. Xavier was beginning to see why his mistress blessed him with this transformation now.

Nearing the top, a massive black shape came into view. Even with his improved eyesight, Xavier couldn't make it out. The object shifted and twisted, appearing like a living breathing creature that occupied the bulk of the mesa. When he finally stepped onto the mesa itself, he beheld the object in it's full glory.

Xavier stood before the maddening sight of the Clockwork Castle of Maeiconna. Built entirely of cogs, spokes and chains, it was in a constant state of motion, it's chain walls and roof constantly shifting, pulled along by the everturning cogs. It's towers were each topped by a massive axle, from which chains spread diagonally down like an everturning maypole, yet they never became entangled around the axle. They were moved by the tower floor, which was a giant turning cog that maintained the effect.

The devil-spawn beheld this giant castle and thought that he would go mad. It betrayed logic, reason and sanity, and yet here it was. Walking tentatively up to one side of the chain exterior, he wondered how he would get in, as there didn't seem to be any kind of entrance. He suddenly realized how impregnable this castle would be to a besieging army. They could hack away for as long as they liked at a part of the wall, but the eternal motion would inevitably replace it with a still reinforced section, allowing engineers on the interior to repair the damaged areas, ready to replace the attacked section again.

Still contemplating how to enter, Xavier was startled when a booming voice echoed across the mesa.

"Who dares approach the palace of Maeiconna?"

He gathered up his courage and replied the way he was instructed to. "I am Xavier," he called back. "Avatar of Lillith."

There was a long pause, and Xavier thought for a few moments that they hadn't heard him. He was about to call out again when a massive grinding sound erupted from the inside of the castle. The chains in the middle of the wall shifted and retracted, forming a large archway. Not letting common sense get the better of him and making him run away, Xavier steeled himself and stepped into the darkness within.

* * *

As Xavier entered the castle of Maeiconna, two lovers lay in each others arms. Occupying the bed in their quarters and clad only in a thin layer of sweat, Raoul and Caleb had been spending the evening doing much more enjoyable activities than the devil-spawn.

It is a known fact that most gnolls are bisexual. Theories exist that this is because the male and female of the species are so similar in appearance, though none dare press the subject in the actual presence of one of the wolf-beasts. Some have come close to asking, but in the end they always decide they would rather keep their limbs attached.

Neither Caleb nor Raoul had actually slept with another man before each other, though they both had taken several mates among the females of their kind. When Raoul joined the Dragonclaws about a year and a half ago, Caleb had quickly taken a shine to him, admiring his sniper tactics and quick thinking. Raoul's speed and intelligence was highly unusual among gnolls, who tended to be more slow and strong like Caleb, generally preferring huge, powerful weapons with massive recoil like heavy chainguns rather than long distance rifles. In fact, the thinner gnoll was often bullied by his marine peers, mocked for tactics they considered cowardly, but their taunts soon turned to praises when they realized that those same tactics enabled Raoul to provide cover for them and eliminate scouts and guards before the alarms could be raised and the rest of the target area alerted to their presence.

Thanks to their increasing success, Raoul soon earned a place as Caleb's subcommander, placing him third in command overall with the Dragonclaws. Working together, they became a fearsome duo, combining long and close range combat with deadly efficiency. It was not long before the two were doing missions alone, allowing the other squads to concentrate on other missions and thus increasing the Dragonclaws revenue.

During one such mission they had become pinned down in a bunker, sealed in and unable to do anything but wait for reinforcements to arrive. It was here, in a soundproofed shelter in the middle of a war zone, that they realized what they felt for each other was more than just troop loyalty and camaraderie, and it was here that they first made love. After that, it had become a tradition that they always have sex before either of them goes on a mission.

But it had never been like this, thought Raoul dazedly, pillowing his head on Caleb's broad, muscular chest and snuggling in his thick, warm fur. It had never been like tonight. Tonight had been... incredible.

The way Caleb had savagely ripped off Raoul's clothes and shoved him onto the bed; how he had torn off his own clothes and climbed on top of him; how he had locked his jaw with Raoul's, firecly and passionately kissing him while making love to him in a feral, brutal way the younger gnoll had never thought possible. Raoul had relished every sensation; Caleb's broad, heaving shoulders and back, his deliciously hot breath, the play of muscles in his powerful thighs; all had combined and intensified the pleasure. He had screamed at the climax, he couldn't help it. It was as if every nerve in his body burned with such an intensity that he thought it would surely kill him, and he loved every moment of the ecstasy that seemed to go on for a blissful eternity.

That had been half an hour ago. Caleb was fast asleep now, his chest that Raoul now rested on rising and falling with his breath, his arms still wrapped lovingly around his companion. Raoul stared at him with adoration. He loved Caleb, loved him as a friend, a comrade, and a mate. He tried to doze off, but was too worried, so worried that not even the love they had just made could put him to sleep. Worry that he would never see this wonderful being again. If Gretch's plan didn't work...

He had asked, pleaded to go with them, but Caleb had refused. Said that with the modifications they would have to make, there wouldn't be enough space for them, Gretch and a possibly wounded Claw. Pointed out that with both him and Claw gone, Raoul would be in command of the Dragonclaws, that it would be stupid to send both commanders on what might very well be a suicide mission.

Raoul knew all this, but he still hated the cold, unfeeling logic. He didn't want to be logical, he didn't want to run the company and perform the hundreds of menial tasks that came with it. All he wanted was to stay with the gnoll he wished to spend the rest of his life with.

He pondered the problem for another hour, until drowsiness and the sexual bliss he could still feel finally stole him away to the realm of dreams, where he beheld a beautiful dreadlocked gnoll who would watch over and cherish him for the rest of his days.

* * *

SO, THIS IS LILLITH'S NEW TOY

Xavier lowered to one knee and averted his eyes, partially because he was instructed to do so by his mistress, but mostly because he feared to gaze long at the "creature" that he beheld in front of him.

He was in the throne room of the Clockwork Castle. This was the epicenter of the device, from which every chain flowed and eventually returned. He knelt on a small, circular platform in the middle of this room, the only place where a creature could stand in the room. The rest of the room, measuring over fifty feet to the roof and the same distance to the ground, was filled with writhing, coiling chains, thousands upon thousands of them, entwining together in an obscene symphony of engineering. The air was filled with the smell of oil that lubricated the chains, and a constant, maddeningly regular creaking filled the air as the billions of cogs, gears and wheels pulled the links through their huge teeth.

Standing guard on the platform and also riding the machinery to various places of the castle were kytons, devils who could manipulate the chains, wore them as clothes, and wielded them as weapons when the need arose. Each was covered from head to toe in them, and stared at Xavier with their burning yellow eyes, with expressions ranging from indifference to contempt to utter hatred.

Xavier didn't care. His attention was diverted by what resided in the center of the platform, making it the core of the entire castle.

A massive void lay at the centre, rimmed by chains and lit by burning spheres of green crystal. At first it seemed nothing compared to the madness surrounding it, but it soon became apparent that this was far more terrifying than the rest of the structure. For emotions eminated from it; hate, greed, arrogance, fear, lust, contempt, despair; this was where the personalities of Maeiconna's sinners were stored, trapped within that shrieking nothingness only twelve feet in diameter, leaving the doomed souls below the castle to forever flounder and drown as mindless zombies trapped in a neverending cycle of damnation.

But... something resided from within the void, an intelligence that governed the life energies that powered the castle. It was a cruel and cunning presence which analyzed every turn of events with a cold logic born of countless eons of existence within this machine. This, Xavier knew, was Maeiconna herself.

SO TELL ME, PLAYTHING, she continued. WHY DOES THE MISTRESS OF SHAME SEND HER ONLY TRUE ASSET INTO MY GAPING MAW?

Xavier steeled himself for the response. "She sends her request for help."

HELP, THE PLAYTHING SAYS? THAT PATHETIC WRETCH, THAT INSECT, DARES TO DEMAND MY AID FOR ANYTHING BESIDES ENDING HER PITIFUL EXISTENCE AND FOREVER ERASING HER SHAMEFUL ACTS FROM THE ANNALS OF THE BAATEZU MOTHERS?

Xavier was trembling. The anger of this creature was heartstoppingly total, freezing his spirit. Then, another presence flooded him, counteracted the wrath and thawed his soul, and Lillith spoke through her avatar as if he were her.

"You owe me a favor, do not tell me you have forgotten."

AH, GREETINGS, SHAMED ONE. I WAS WONDERING FOR HOW LONG YOU WOULD LET YOUR TOY SUFFER. NOW TELL ME, WHAT IS THIS FAVOR YOU SPEAK OF? WHEN DID I BECOME INDEBTED TO A WRETCH LIKE YOU?

"I lent you my power during the invasion of the Tanaa'ri. If I had not assisted you, you would be nothing but a memory, a vague footnote in the annals of our grand history."

DO NOT CONFUSE THE CAUSE WITH YOURSELF, WRETCH. YOU ARE NO LONGER A BAATEZU.

"I am aware"

YOU WERE THE GUARDIAN OF THE GREATEST JEWEL IN EXISTENCE, A WORLD FULL OF THE MOST DANGEROUS AND WICKED CREATURES IN THE MULTIVERSE. IT WAS A GRAND POSITION, CARETAKER OF THESE CREATURES, FOSTERER OF THE DARK POWERS WITHIN THEM. YOU WERE THE MOST ENVIED OF ALL THE MOTHERS FOR THE TREASURE YOU POSESSED.

Xavier/Lillith said nothing, waiting for the ranting to end.

BUT YOU LOST IT! YOU NEGLECTED YOUR DUTIES AS A BAATEZU IN AN ACT OF WORTHLESS SELFISHNESS, RISKED THE JEWEL IN AN ATTACK AGAINST A POWERFUL TANAA'RI MISTRESS IN A WORTHLESS ATTEMPT TO ACQUIRE YET MORE POWER. IT IS NO SURPRISE YOU LOST THAT BATTLE, YOU STUPID, SPOILED GIRL.

"There were circumstances I had not counted on"

A BAATEZU MUST BE FOREVER WATCHFUL, THAT IS WHY YOU LOST. THAT IS WHY THE JEWEL WAS NEVER OF COMPLETELY DARK POWER, WHY IT ALWAYS FOSTERED GOOD DESPITE THE NATURE OF THE CREATURES WITHIN. YOU RELAXED IN YOUR CURTAIN OF POWER, BLISSFULLY UNAWARE THAT SOMEONE WAS HACKING IT DOWN!

"If you are done raving, I would like to discuss this favor."

KNOW THIS, LILLITH. I WILL NOT ASSOCIATE WITH YOU, AND NONE OF THE MOTHERS WILL SYMPATHISE WITH YOU ON THIS MATTER.

"But perhaps father will be interested to know of the life-debt you never repaid, that you still owe to the 'disgraced one'."

There was a long pause, and when Maeiconna finally spoke it was a snarl. VERY WELL! I WILL ASSIST YOU IF I DEEM IT A WORTHY REQUEST.

"You will indeed consider it worthy. I require your assistance in a quest, one that will both redeem myself and allow you to expand your realm a hundredfold!"

Maeiconna pretended not to hear the second part of that proposal, but it was obvious by the sound of her voice that she was intrigued. AND WHAT COULD POSSIBLY REDEEM YOU, BANISHED ONE?

"By destroying the one thing the Tanaa'ri hold dear, the one thing they guard more vehemently than any other treasure."

Sudden realization struck the Baatezu. DISCORDIA!

"Yes. By subverting and destroying this treasure, they would suffer a significant loss of both power and morale, perhaps allowing us to break the stalemate and gain control of the material plane."

YOU ARE A FOOL, LILLITH. DO NOT TRY AND CONVINCE ME THAT YOU ARE DOING THIS FOR THE GOOD OF THE CAUSE. THIS IS AN ACT OF VENGEANCE. She paused BUT, I SEE MANY USES SUCH AN ACHEIVEMENT WOULD PRESENT.

"Then you will assist me?"

ON ONE CONDITION. ALONG WITH THE REPAYMENT OF THE DEBT, I REQUIRE AN ITEM.

"An item?"

YES. THE ONE THING ON DISCORDIA THAT IS TOO PRECIOUS TO LOSE, THAT WILL ENHANCE MY POWER BEYOND ALL IMAGINING AND MAKE ME THE UNDISPUTED RULER OF THE MOTHERS.

There was no need to clarify. Lillith knew what she was referring to, and she didn't care one way or the other what happened to that particular treasure. It didn't matter. Her lust for revenge would be satiated either way, and that was all that mattered.

"I accept your terms."


End file.
